Dwindling
by we noble and ancient
Summary: "How the mighty have fallen, dear sister." "I now wonder, Bella, if we were ever mighty." 1979, Narcissa witnesses the end of her bloodline.


Dwindling

"How the mighty have fallen, dear sister." "I now wonder, Bella, if we were ever mighty." 1979, Narcissa witnesses the end of her bloodline.

Song inspiration was "Story Of My Life", Downton Abby Soundtrack, the Chamber Orchestra of London

This short fic is based on the dates shown in the Black Family Tree, where Regulus, Orion, and Cygnus all have died in the same year. Also Lucius and Narcissa aren't quite married in this one although I believe they actually would be, it being 1979!

The three coffins were lowered in unison into the soggy ground as the rain misted the crowd.

Perhaps "crowd" was the wrong word, Narcissa mused numbly. A crowd surely implied a gathering of more than what could be described as a "few", all together to offer support and to see their loved one off for the final time.

There was the mortician, an aged, stooped man who had been burying Blacks for what seemed to be millennia. The death of three at once must be nothing more mild convenience. The addition of a star and two more constellations to the ancient family graveyard could hardly be a great worry to him.

There was Lucius, standing a ways behind her, next to his fearsome father (she was surprised he showed on this dreary day, if she was honest) and Rodolphus. Both her fiancé and her brother-in-law had the decency to look humbled by the loss – they had, after all, known her cousin quite well.

There was a smattering of others present for the short ceremony, those who either somehow still thought highly of the House of Black and were too afraid of turning down an invitation, or a select few who quietly cared for those deceased. Narcissa was dimly aware of Severus Snape staring at his worn shoes, standing slightly behind the rest of the mourners. He was closer in age to Reg than any of the others had been, and, had she been paying attention, Narcissa would have witnessed tears running down the boy's face, much to his dismay.

And finally, standing ahead of the group with full view of the churned mud that was swallowing their patriarchs, was Narcissa, her sister Bellatrix, her mother, and her aunt. The four Blacks left.

Narcissa wondered with an inward grimace what exactly the point of being "ancient" really was when a single decade could see the end of their line, all dead or as good as. What was the advantage of having all this prowess, all this purest of blood, when she now stood here, her family dwindled down to four, watching her uncle, her father, and her little cousin be methodically covered in sodden earth.

The representation of her little cousin, of course, she reminded herself. Without his body – his eighteen-year-old, slender body – they were burying no more than his memory in the ground. Narcissa pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling.

Cloaks and feet dampened, the dark figures began filing away from the scene towards the main house, seeking what little warmth that building had left to offer. For hundreds of years that house had raised Blacks, all shining hair and sparking eyes, sharp tongues and quick wits, and with the end of the bloodline it was as if the very building itself had lost the light it once held.

Narcissa looked towards the black-shrouded women standing beside her. Similarities in their pale skin, high cheekbones, the set of their shoulders – it was clear to see how she was one of them despite her fair hair. Narcissa had always envied the dark beauty of the other women in her family, always desperately wishing her hair to darken to that of her sisters, for her to gain their intensity and their mysteriousness. However, akin to the house giving up its last, she saw the flaws in their design for perhaps the first time.

Bellatrix's face showed little emotion – much like her own, she was sure, however her dark eyes were truly blank. She wasn't only here because she was obligated to be, Narcissa insisted to herself, she was here because somewhere deep down behind all her devotion to her lord, there was a part of her that she herself was not even aware of that missed her baby cousin and her father. But those eyes showed nothing. Narcissa realized then that they hadn't for some time.

Druella Black nee Rosier stared wide-eyed down at the ornamental box which held her husband of thirty years. Narcissa saw in stark relief the lines etched around her mouth, between her eyebrows; the wisps of grey now streaking her midnight hair. She had never seen her mother look so small – seen her look less like her perfectly poised mother, matriarch of the Black legacy. All she looked now was tired.

Her Aunt Walburga, who had been born with the name Black and married a Black, had just about as much emotion in her eyes as Bella. With a final glance at the coffins holding her husband, her brother, and the idea of her son, the woman turned slowly around and began making her way down the slight decline towards the main lawn and house. Soon after Druella followed stiffly behind her sister-in-law, seemingly unaware of her feet moving.

Bellatrix turned to look at Narcissa for the first time that ceremony.

"How the mighty have fallen, dear sister." Her voice was cold, bitter.

Narcissa continued to stare at the now covered graves. The rain was picking up, turning the freshly ploughed earth to puddles. She wondered if she were to step into it if it would swallow her like quicksand, if it would hold her in its cool embrace until she slept.

Narcissa, still not looking into Bellatrix's empty eyes, was surprised to hear her voice just as frigid as her sisters. "I now wonder, Bella, if we were ever mighty."

Bellatrix scoffed, flinging her head high towards the weeping heavens. "Don't be so dramatic, Cissy. We're Blacks, we're…" Her voice trailed off as her chin lowered slightly, as if remembering their current situation. Turning on her heel she headed down the hill, not continuing to the main house but past it to apparate once outside its boundary. Narcissa knew she was not to be returning to her husband that night.

Upon turning to watch her sister go, Narcissa was surprised to see Lucius still standing some yards behind her, a conjured black umbrella sheltering him. He slowly made his way closer to her.

"May I join you?" he asked quietly. She nodded, and he moved forwards to include her under his cover.

"You didn't have to wait for me," she murmured softly, shifting closer to him subconsciously.

"I didn't want you being alone."

"I had Bella."

"I didn't want you to be alone with her either."

Narcissa gave a soft smile, glancing up at the man she was to marry in a matter of months. His eyes did not hold the emptiness of the Blacks. They were cool, yes, but not empty. Just now they swam with emotion – grief over the loss of someone so young, worry for her, an internal conflict over the fact that it was his master who had caused this family such loss. Lucius' mind was untouched by the madness that had finally brought her family to ruin.

His hair was not chestnut, his eyes not onyx. And for once Narcissa was comforted by the fact that neither were hers.

"Thank you," she stated simply, turning her gaze back to the ground. Little Reggie was gone, snatched away before his life had begun. Her father would never call her "princess" again. The little family she had left was of no more use to her here – the mighty had truly fallen.

Turning to give the once-handsome manor house of her childhood a final appraisal, Narcissa felt something draining away from her into the ground to join the generations buried there. Perhaps it was the last of her Blackness, the last of her loyalty to her rotting blood. No matter how pure it was, the name Black no longer gave it value.

"Lucius, can we go to your place?" He looked down at her, seeming to understand the desperation in her voice. She slid a small, cold hand into his large one, leaned her exhausted head on his chest, and finally allowed tears to seep from her pale eyes. "I don't want to be here. I don't want to ever come back here again."

And Narcissa Black never did.


End file.
